Disposable Heroes
by ann no aku
Summary: Hermione Granger is spending two months abroad studying Muggles in America with her all time enemy Draco Malfoy. Why had Draco been chosen to go on this trip and how come his parents don’t know about it? Chapter Four uploaded!
1. Victims of Mathematcis

Disposable Heroes

By: ann no aku

**General Disclaimer:**  Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.  The quote belongs to JMS.  The title belongs to Metallica from their _Master of Puppets_ album.

**Summary:**  It is Hermione's seventh year at Hogwarts, and she is not the Head Girl.  As a matter of fact, she is not even at Hogwarts!  Instead, Hermione Granger is spending two months abroad studying Muggles in America with her all time enemy Draco Malfoy.  How will the two of them survive without any connection to their rightful world besides each other?

**Rating:**  PG-13

**Author's Notes:**  I tried to portray the characters as well as I can without them appearing OOC.  Any questions, e-mail me at [ann_no_aku@yahoo.com][1]

**Chapter:**  One

**Chapter Title:**  _Victims of Mathematics_

**Opening quote:**  "There's a natural law, as physics tells us, that for every action there must be an equal and opposite reaction.  They hate us, we hate them, they hate us back.  And so, here we are victims of mathematics."  JMS

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            Angry.  What were some synonyms for "angry"?  She paused to think.  Upset.  Ticked off.  Mad?  Or would mad just mean that she's daft?  Hermione clenched her jaw refusing to look at the stupid git beside her.  Instead, she forced her cinnamon eyes to look out the window of the airplane.  Why would Hermione be on an airplane instead of inside the comforting walls of Hogwarts?  Voldemort only knew!  No, her stubbornness had gotten the better of her.  She just _had to take Muggle Studies!  Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.  _I should be Head Girl_, she thought.  __Instead I willingly signed up to study abroad.  How could I have been so stupid as to not see it was to study Muggles_ abroad?!_  She bit her tongue to keep herself from retorting to her own thoughts.  _I shouldn't be so upset,_ she finally agreed.  __This is worth extra credit and will look good on any job application!  I just wish he__ wasn't here.  I wonder if anyone would mind if I threw him out a window . . ._

            Finally Hermione faced the one person she had been trying to avoid for the past four hours.  Draco, she noticed, look a little green like his Slytherin robes except he was not wearing them.  Neither of them was allowed any non-Muggle items except for their wands (for protection) and their Muggle Studies book cleverly disguised as a book on America's culture and way of life.  The napping boy's grey eyes flew open as though he could feel her staring at him.  "What do you want, Mudblood?" he spat.

            Rather than scolding him about using that word in front of Muggles, she did her best to ignore his rude insult.  "I was just curious as to what you are doing here."

            "Didn't have much of a choice.  Some bastard signed me up to go on this bloody trip.  Now I'm going to be stuck with you for the next two months!"  Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  The plane ride was not agreeing with him, and the trip was only half way over.  He took in a deep breath to calm his nerves.  Never before had _he been on a plane.  What would have been the point?_

            "You don't look to well," she informed him with a bit of amusement in her voice.

            "Shut up.  I am perfectly fine."  As if to test his stomach, the plane started to shake.  The seatbelt light flashed on above them.  Draco's sallow face grew even sicklier in fear.  Beads of sweat formed atop his brow and trickled down to his temple.  "Granger, do something!"

            "Relax.  It's only turbulence," she assured as the shaking ceased.  "See?"

            "Don't mock _me_, Mudblood.  What's the purpose of this _thing anyway?  Don't you Muggles have any other means of travel?"_

            "If you keep talking like that, someone is bound to notice.  Besides, if you ask me, the Ministry was foolish to trust an ego-centric, spoilt brat like yourself to keep quiet."

            "Well no one asked you."  He searched as if looking for something else to insult her about besides being a Muggle born.  He had almost thought of something when he felt someone dare to touch him.  He quickly retracted his arm and stared at the stewardess with daggers shooting from his eyes.  "What do you wa-?"

            "Drink?" she offered smiling brightly.  She peered past Draco to look at the bushy-haired girl next to him.

            "What have you got?" he demanded.

            "Coffee, tea, coca-cola, sprite, water," she replied shuffling through her large cart.

            "I'll have a tea, Ma'am," Hermione told her.  "Have you any lemon?" she wondered once handed the small mug and her sugar packets.

            "No, sorry, Miss.  All out.  And you, Sir?"  She looked to the green-faced boy.  "Sprite might help ease your stomach."

            "Who asked you for your opinion?" he stole a peak of Hermione's inviting mug.  "Give me a tea, too.  Extra sugar."  He barely acknowledged the hard working stewardess and just started dumping the packets of sugar into his brown drink.  Draco felt _her staring at him again.  "Like what you see, Granger?"_

            "You were rude to that woman," she cried ignoring his accusation.

            "She's not a doctor, nor did I ask her to play one."  He turned his attention to his overly sweet tea and sipped it graciously, not realizing that the drink would be more than warm.  Draco nearly spat it all over the chair in front of him after choking on it mumbling something about "stupid Muggles".  After his bad tea incident, he decided it would be best if he would just drift off into a dreamless sleep.

            Hermione pulled out a book she had brought with her in her bulging carry-on and began reading.  She carefully turned each page so that she would not wake the almost peaceful dragon.  But apparently her efforts to be courteous to his problems were not good enough for him.  Nothing that she could ever do would be good enough for a Malfoy.

            "Can't you keep it down, Granger?"  His sudden outburst had caused his stomach to dance about.  He placed a firm hand on his belly to calm the movement inside.

            "My mother packed me up some medicine for motion sickness—Dramamine.  Would you like-?"

            "Does it look like I need it?" he interrupted.  Draco felt angrier than his usual self for several reasons.  The obvious was that he was not feeling well.  His insides kept doing summersaults and the stale air of the plane only made him more nauseous.

            "I'm just trying to help!" she almost shouted, angry with herself for thinking that _he_ could be civil for even a moment!

            "Hell will freeze over the day I ask for help from a Mudblood."  Draco stretched out his long legs before him and sighed in boredom.  He knew that there was no possible way he'd be able to survive four more hours on an 'airplane' with Ms. Bushy-Haired-Perfect-Know-It-All-Hermione Granger.  Just the thought of sitting next to her any longer caused his stomach to fold.

            "Don't I know it," she mumbled in reply to his nasty comment.  Hermione slammed her book back inside her sack.  "I can't even enjoy a bit of light reading."

`           After the longest eight hours either of them had ever experienced, the airplane landed in the state of Virginia.  Hermione nearly leaped from her seat in excitement only to be stopped by a slow-moving Draco Malfoy.  It was clear that he did not feel any better than he had before.  He grabbed his carry-on bag from the overhead compartment and left his companion alone to carry all the ridiculous books she had brought with her.  He didn't need a Mudblood to keep him from stepping a foot on the firm ground.

            The sun blinded him.  _Impossible_, he thought.  _It was __noon__ when we had left!  Draco tried to block the sun with his pale hand.  __Now where's that Mudblood Granger?  He followed the other passengers up a steep ladder to a make shift hallway which led to a bustling bay of people.  He did not think that he had seen so many Muggles in his life!  There were all sorts of them dressed smartly, leisurely, and even some in beach clothes.  And the noise!  He could hear what sounded like a buzz of beeping, ringing, and nonsense chatter.  He was overwhelmed._

            "There you are," Hermione caught her breath.  "It's not wise for you to be alone here."

            "How can _they_ stand it?  It's much too noisy and crowded," he decided, still in awe about just how chaotic the Muggles were.

            "I think I found our host family."  She walked over to a couple holding a large sign that read: Welcome to America Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger in very large letters and an assortment of colors.  Hermione was much relieved when the young man offered to take her bag for her.  "Thank you."

            "What a pleasure it is to meet you!  You're Hermione, right?"  Mrs. Roberts asked after quickly introducing herself.  She pulled her into a quick hug, smothering Hermione with the scent of perfume.  "This is my son Eric.  He's a senior this year."  He blushed.  "And you must be Draco Malfoy!"  The woman also lured the reluctant boy into a squeeze.  "Draco, my son Eric."

            "Nice to meet you," Eric greeted, extending his hand for a shake.

            Still shocked about the embrace Mrs. Roberts had given him, Draco just stared blankly at Eric.  Hermione shot him a look.  "Hello," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.  He wiped his slightly damp palms over his black khakis.  Draco was beginning to miss the odd comfort of his robes.  He had purchased a large black trench coat as a substitute, but it did not feel the same.

            Hermione decided that Draco looked very much out of place dressed in all black wearing a coat in the mild heat of September.  Surely he must have known that America was going to be slightly warmer!  She did a once over on her own attire, hoping that she did not over dress for the occasion.  She was clothed in a charcoal grey jumper, white blouse, and a maroon sweater that was tightly wrapped around her waist.  _I look like I'm in uniform,_ she mused.

            "You two must be exhausted from that flight!  If not, the jet lag sure will get to you."  While leading them to their luggage, Mrs. Roberts continued talking.  "It's three P.M. here, so your bodies feel like it is eight P.M.  Dinner will be ready at about six.  Mr. Roberts is preparing it all now.  So, once we get you two all settled in, you can freshen up and nap before dinner if need be—or as you say back home, 'supper'."

            If it wasn't for Hermione dragging Draco's heavy luggage from the carousel, he probably would have forgotten about it.  He was hardly paying attention to anything going on around him.  "Might we use a trolley?" she asked, having quite a bit of difficulty dragging her own lead suitcases off.

            "Sure."  Eric took a cart and stacked the bags neatly on it.  "What'd you bring, Hermione?  Bricks?"

            "No.  Just books," she smiled, taking no notice of the scowl on her classmate's face.  _Eric is attractive,_ she thought while pink burned on her cheeks.  _He sort of looks like Cedric Diggory—big and well muscled._  She figured that Draco probably noticed her blush for he commented on it.

            "Fancy the Muggle, do you?" he whispered, wrapping his coat around himself like a robe.

            "Don't forget my warning, Draco, or even your father won't be able to get you out of the trouble you'll be having with the Ministry," she threatened.

            "So, Hermione, what do you do for fun?"  Mrs. Roberts asked, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulder.

            "Read, mostly," she shyly admitted.  "Over the summers I travel with my family."

            "Wonderful!  You, Draco?"  She momentarily paused to focus her attention on the seventeen year old young man.  Hermione, too, was interested in his response.

            "If you mean over holidays, my parents work.  Other than that, I do sports."

            "I play football and soccer!"  Eric happily exclaimed, not seeing the sneer on his face.  "Which I guess would be American football and regular football to you.  What do you play?"

            "Quidditch," he said without a care as to what he had just blurted.

            "What's that?"

            "It's a lot like Rugby," Hermione lied.  "Only you use sticks.  It's not very popular yet."

            "Do you two like Italian?"  Mrs. Roberts proceeded with the interrogation, "Because we're having chicken marsala tonight!"  Her enthusiasm about her guests lasted throughout the trip to the Mercedes and all the way home.  Although they were silent, Mrs. Roberts hardly noticed.  She was having too much fun getting acquainted with them.

            Both were pleased when the car pulled into the driveway of the large Muggle house.  Mr. Roberts exited the front door, leaving it open, and merrily helped his wife and son unload the trunk of the car.  "Welcome home!" his voice boomed.  It was obvious where Eric had inherited his handsome features.  Both had sandy blonde hair and a set of deep, intense eyes.  Mr. Roberts kicked the front door open and lunged the heavy luggage by the stairs.  He grinned, revealing a set of perfect teeth.  "Dinner's about ready.  Eric, why don't you show our guests to their rooms?"

            The house was unlike any other Draco had been inside of before.  He was used to large dark castles, not bright houses that seemed to emit its own life force.  The house was very spacious with large rooms and high ceilings.  "This is the bathroom."  Eric swept his toned arm over the intimate room.  "Towels are beneath the sink," he opened the small cabinet revealing a pallet of towels and flannels.  The room with the toilet and vanity sink was separated from the duel bath and shower by a large wooden door.

            "Lovely!" Hermione gasped.  Eric grinned.

            "Uh, this is my room," he ushered the two down the vast hallway to his bedroom door.  "This is where Draco and I will be sleeping."

            _Great,_ he thought._  Of course this sort of thing _would_ happen.  He saw Hermione cover her mouth in attempt to block the laughter from escaping.  He scowled at her, his angry grey eyes burned into her.  "Something funny, Granger?" he asked, doing his best to swallow his anger._

            "No-"

            "And, Hermione, your room."  Eric, who had carried her bags up for her, dropped them carefully onto the floor.  The room was beautifully decorated with thick white curtains and a large mahogany four poster bed sitting in the middle of the room.  "This is normally the guest bedroom."

            "It's perfect."  Hermione thanked him and immediately started unpacking her clothes and placing them inside the matching tall dresser.  The two had left her to continue organizing her things and growing accustomed to her new home.  She plopped tiredly on the bed and felt at ease and very rich relaxing in the thick cotton sheets and lush pillows.  _If he_ was not here, I could really enjoy myself._  She lazily flipped through her Muggle Studies Year 7 book._

            Draco, on the other hand, had not been quite as lucky as Hermione.  Instead of having his own room, he had to share with a damn 'bunk bed' with a Muggle!  It infuriated him!  The irony of the whole situation drove him mad.  He tore through his things, roughly assigning each item a specific location.  Everything he owned was black.

            "Top or bottom?"

            "Excuse me?"  He looked up at the _mundane_ human as though Eric had just insulted him.  His brow was furrowed and his harsh eyes studied his.

            "Which bunk?"  Eric watched as his new roommate slammed his suitcase shut and slowly zipped it closed.

            "Top," Draco finally answered, tossing a thick book on the soft bed.  The book was entitled The British Guide to America.  He swung one leg over the ladder rungs and climbed to his new bed where he began studying.  _I bet this is Dumbledore's way of getting back at me for what I did to Hermione last year._

            "I didn't realize that America and Great Britain were so different that one could write suck a big book on it."

            "I don't think that America can live up to all the _interesting facts in here."_

            Eric tried his best to shove aside Draco's attitude.  "I'm going to see if supper is ready," he announced and left the bedroom feeling disappointed.  He had been hoping that Draco would be cool rather than a spoilt child.

*****

End Chapter One!

I plan on having this story being a little long for what I wish to happen.  This is just the beginning of the adventures Hermione and Draco have while in America.  Thanks!

--ann no aku

   [1]: mailto:ann_no_aku@yahoo.com



	2. The Quiet Ones

Disposable Heroes

By: ann no aku

**General Disclaimer:**  Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.  The quote belongs to JMS.  The title belongs to Metallica from their _Master of Puppets_ album.

**Summary:**  It is Hermione's seventh year at Hogwarts, and she is not the Head Girl.  As a matter of fact, she is not even at Hogwarts!  Instead, Hermione Granger is spending two months abroad studying Muggles in America with her all time enemy Draco Malfoy.  How will the two of them survive without any connection to their rightful world besides each other?

**Rating:**  PG-13

**Author's Notes:**  I tried to portray the characters as well as I can without them appearing OOC.  Any questions, e-mail me at [ann_no_aku@yahoo.com][1]

**Chapter:**  Two

**Chapter Title:**  The Quiet Ones

**Opening quote:**  "The quiet ones are the ones that change the universe (. . .) the loud ones only take the credit." JMS

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            School.  The most hated six-letter word by anyone ranging in the ages from five to eighteen.  Everyone except one.  One girl.  To her, there was nothing more exciting than allowing herself to be absorbed by each word in a textbook.  She loved the way the plump, juicy sentences sounded in her busy head.  Each word would taste sweet as she would read each one out loud.  Excitedly, Hermione Granger crawled out of her luxurious bed and gathered up her robe as she headed for the bathroom.

            She sunk deeply into the warm water and nearly leaped out of her skin when a knock sounded at the door.

            "Going to be in there all morning, are you?  Some of us need to use the lavatory, too, Granger."  He gripped his hair gel bottle tightly, careful not to get some on his black sweater.

            "I am almost done!" she yelled back, forcing her wet body from the tub.  Hermione dried off and pulled on her bathrobe before unlocking the door.  She opened it slowly, embarrassed that Draco was going to see her dressed so.

            "Hurry up, Mudblood."  He pushed past her and tried to burn the image of Hermione half clothed from his mind.

            "I don't see why you couldn't have just used the other half of the bathroom."

            "Someone was using it.  Besides, I didn't think you'd mind," he smirked.  Draco squeezed the sticky substance onto his hands and began his daily ritual of slicking back his platinum blonde hair.

            "That damages your hair, you know."

            "Really?  Looks like you could use some."

            Annoyed, she stormed off to her bedroom and shifted through her clothes for something to wear.  She had just about managed to tug out a pair of blue jeans from her dresser when Mrs. Roberts tapped lightly on her door.  "Come in!"  Hermione called, throwing the pants on her bed.

            "Good morning!"

            "'Morning."

            "I found this and thought it may be of some use to you," Mrs. Roberts said, handing the girl a large metal object with a long cord.

            "Wh-What is it?"

            "A flat iron.  You use it to straighten hair and sometimes make it a little flat."  She smiled at her.

            "Flat iron?"  She studied it skeptically.

            "Just plug it into the wall and turn it on.  You have to wait a while for it to heat-up, of course.  Do you know how to use it?"

            "I think so.  Thank you!"  Hermione immediately plugged it in and set it on a small glass table top.

            "You're welcome, dear.  You can keep it, too, if you like."

            "I'd love to, but these sorts of things are not allowed at school.  I'd have to mail it home first."

            "Hm.  They'd probably think of it as a hot plate or an open coil or something," Mrs. Roberts agreed.  "Just use it as long as you'd like and mail it home."  She shut the door behind her and walked down the stairs to the kitchen.

            The sweet smell of breakfast wafted upstairs luring the three students down to the breakfast table which was littered with platters of bacon, eggs, hot cakes, orange juice, milk, and even breakfast sausage.  It was almost like the feasts at Hogwarts!  "Oh, good morning, Draco!"  Mrs. Roberts pulled him into her arms.  "You look handsome today, dear."

            Still not used to all the physical attention, he just sat down at the table between Hermione and Eric.  "Did you cook all this yourself?"

            "Yes," she shoved Draco a plate full of a little bit of everything.  "Eat up, now.  You have a full day ahead of you."

            "Mom always gets excited when people stay over.  She keeps telling me that she should have had another kid."

            "Wonderful hot cakes, Mrs. Roberts." Hermione complimented, thoroughly enjoying all the home cooked food.  _Not even the house elves can cook this well_.

            "So, Draco," Mrs. Roberts began, sitting down at the head of the table, "What do your parents do for a living?"

            "My mother doesn't work, but my father works-" he paused to recall the lie the professor had told him to use, "He works for the government."

            "Hermione?"

            "Both my parents are dentists," she took a large gulp of her milk.

            "That explains your perfect teeth," Eric said, causing her to blush.

            The flirting between Hermione and the Muggle Eric angered Draco.  It was bad enough that Ms. Granger was a Mudblood, but to _want_ to contaminate her blood even more was ridiculous!  Soon _she'd_ spawn off little brats that would barely have even a drop of wizarding blood in them!  Hermione would disgrace the name of wizardry even more than she had done already by being born_.  Wizards are a breed of a better race, not a matter to take lightly_, he thought.

            "-I was thinking of working for the government, particularly in the justice department." Hermione said, shaking Draco from his ownS thoughts.

            "That's wonderful!  You, Draco?  What do you want to do with your life?"

            "I want to follow in my father's footsteps.  I want to complete everything he leaves behind after his time."  He loved the look of pure shock that had taken over Hermione's face.  Her normal dull brown eyes were full of anger.  He could almost feel heat emanating from her.  Draco smiled, feeling the best he had during his entire trip so far.

**********

            "So you're going to be a Death Eater?"  Hermione hissed while brushing her teeth.  "Just like your father?"

            "What's it to you?"

            "Nothing," she lied.  Foam dribbled down her chin and into the sink.

            "Heh.  You're not scared, are you?"  He glared down at her before leaving to gathering his school bag.

            _Argh!  How could he say such a thing?!_  She was so mad that she didn't hear Eric telling her to hurry up or they'd be late.  "Coming!"  Hermione grabbed her bag and made a mad dash for the door.  "Sorry."

            "No problem."  He unlocked his car and everyone piled inside.  Hermione sat up front.

            "Well, Granger, from the looks of it, I can see that you obviously didn't make Head Girl."

            "And I see that you didn't get Head Boy, either," she sneered.

            "I have my reasons.  What's your excuse, Granger?"

            She ignored him, hurt by his words.

            "I take it that you two aren't exactly the best of friends." Eric stated, breaking the ice.  He stared sympathetically at Hermione.

            "It's not that," Hermione lied not wanting to have him feel uncomfortable.  Draco was somewhat surprised by her lying.

            "Are you two exes?"

            "As if!" She shouted hotly.  "We just . . . we're just competing for be best grades at school.  The Churchill Academy of London is known for being very competitive and for being the home of the brightest people all over the United Kingdom."

            "That's right, Granger.  You keep telling yourself that we're only competing.  I would hardly call it a competition when one of us is only partially in the game." Draco insulted, making reference to her being Muggle born.

            She suddenly found herself missing the gothic architecture of Hogwarts.  There'd be ghosts whom would annoy her, no moving pictures, no passwords to remember, no robes, and worst of all no magic.  Her heart sank deeply into her stomach.

            "Think of this as a vacation, Granger, since all of your summers are spent in such mundane places as this."

            She didn't reply.  Instead she listened closely as Eric showed them how to get to the office of the school.  "We need to get your schedules," he informed.  He came back out seconds later with their schedules and two sets of text books.  Eric explained how the schedules were set up.  "Just, uh, meet me out where I had parked the car when school is over, okay?"  The bell rang, and Eric ran off to his first class after assuring them Ms. Conner would meet up with them.  "Stay here!"

            "Okay."  Hermione studied her schedule and stole a peek of Draco's.  "We have the same first class and lunch."

            "If you thing that I'd be sitting next to you, you're wrong."  Draco stuffed his slip of paper into his pocket.

            "You don't know anyone else," she reminded.

            "I wouldn't _dream_ of interrupting your precious little time with your Muggle boyfriend.  I s'pose you want to contaminate _our_ blood even more."

            If Ms. Connor had not shown up at that moment, Hermione would have told him off.  But she was relieved all the same because her insults never seemed to faze him the way his bothered her.  "Good morning," she greeted, her beady hazel eyes twinkled.  "Welcome to Fairfax High School."

            "'Morning," Hermione replied.

            "Here's a map of the school.  If either of you get lost, just ask a fellow classmate or a teacher.  Any questions? Good!  I'll show you to your first class."  Ms. Conner spoke rapidly as though she was trying to get them out of her hair.  "The principal had thought it best if you two had the same first class.  Don't ask me why.  Mr. Fletcher likes to do things his way."  The slim woman led them down crowded hallways packed with tardy students.  "Tsk, students should be in their first class now."

            The small group stopped in front of a large, brightly lit classroom full of students.  Most were seated in their appropriate desks.  "This is American History.  Oh, almost forgot!  Your locker numbers and combinations are on your schedule.  Good luck."  Ms. Conner vanished after introducing them to Mr. Barry.

            "Locker?"  Hermione looked blankly at her schedule.

            "Coming from a Muggle family, Granger, you should know what it is already.  Or did you not read your Muggle Studies book closely enough?"

            "Piss off."

            "Ahem, class," Mr. Barry started, practically slamming the door behind his new students.  "For the next two months, these two, uh, transfer students Draco Malfoy and Ms. Hermione Granger" (he read their names from a piece of paper), "Will be studying with us.  They are from the Churchill Academy of London, England.  So please show them some respect and behave."  He directed them to their seats, having Hermione sitting diagonal and to the left of Draco.  Then he immediately proceeded with his lecture about the War of 1812.

            "Take notes," Hermione hissed at him, scribbling furiously with her pencil on her white notebook paper.

            "With what?"

            "Pencil and paper!"

            "I am not like you, Granger, all of this _rubbish_ is unfamiliar to me."  He pulled out a pencil (wondering how to make it write) and a piece of paper.  After little difficulty, he started writing in his usual fancy script.  It looked different when not written with such fine ink on the greatest quality parchment.

            "Questions, class?" The teacher inquired after talking for about three-quarters of the class.  "No?  Then you may talk quietly amongst yourselves."  He retreated to his large desk and did some paper work.

            Almost the entire class flocked over to the new students, talking excitedly and asking them all sorts of questions.  One girl was holding a book called Wicca: The Teenage Witch's Guide to Wicca and Wiccan Magic by Silver Ravenwolf.  Hermione couldn't take her eyes from the book.  It was a Muggle book on magic!  The girl saw her staring at the book and let her look through it.

            "Are you Wiccan?" Rebecca asked her.  Her raven black hair hung loosely atop her shoulders.  The girl had chalk white skin as well as several piercings.

            "No.  What _is Wicca?"_

            "Is that a book on magic?"  Draco snatched the book from her grasp.  "Tsk, Granger, you never know when to give up, do you?"  He flipped through the pages.  "Candles?  Phases of the moon?  What is this?"

            "It's _Rebecca's_ book, Malfoy."  Hermione handed it back to her.

            "Do you do magic, Draco?"  Rebecca's emerald eyes glued themselves to him.  They reminded him all too much of Harry's eyes.

            "Nothing _you'd_ know," he stuffed his hands in his coat pockets, forgetting that his wand was there.  A smirk crept across his face.  "Maybe I can show you."  He winked at Hermione in response to her look of disgust.

            "Really?"  Rebecca's face lit up.

            "Sure.  Why not?"

            "There's no such thing as magic," Hermione interrupted, feeling her cheeks burn.

            "You're just jealous, Granger, that you cannot do it."

            "Malfoy-!"  Just as she was ready to threaten him, the bell rang signifying the end of class.  "I don't want to get in trouble because of you," she spat.

            "Don't get your knickers in a knot.  I was only joking."  His silver eyes darted across his schedule as he read it to himself.

            "What class do you have?"

            "What's it to you, Mudblood?"  He gathered up his belongings and fled the classroom.  His black trench coat floated behind him, looking very much like a robe.

            "This is going to be the longest two months of my entire life!" she groaned and stuffed her things into her bag.  "Now how do I get to room 119?"  Hermione wished then that she had more time to prepare for this schooling so she wouldn't look quite so out of place in Muggle America.

*********************************

            Lunchtime came too slowly.  She was not used to 'block scheduling' where there'd be four classes at ninety minutes in length each.  So far she had endured American History and Pre-Calculus.  Hermione trudged tiredly through the crowded corridors dragging her heavy school sack.

            "You look exhausted," Eric greeted and offered to take her bag.

            "I am," she answered.  "Where's Draco?"

            "I haven't seen him, but I'm sure he'll find us."  He led her to a picnic table outside where they'd be eating their lunch Mrs. Roberts had packed for them earlier that morning.

            "There you are Granger!"

            "Speak of the Devil," Eric murmured so only Hermione could hear him.

            "I thought you didn't want to sit with me," she opened her water bottle.

            "I'd rather sit with you than these," he paused, "Mundanes," he finished.

            "Mundanes?" Eric repeated.  He glared at the blond haired boy.  "What do you mean by that?"

            Draco ignored his question and sneered at him in disgust.  He plopped down on the bench across from his schoolmate and opened up his satchel searching for his lunch.  He found it a little too warm to be wearing his trench coat outside and removed it revealing a muscular build trapped beneath a black sweater.  The food Mrs. Roberts had prepared for him was not bad, but it was not what he was used to either.  He had a ham and butter sandwich on white bread with the crust cut off (the way he preferred) and a small box of finger sandwiches with cucumbers on them.  Granted the vegetables tasted fresher, the food itself had more grease and fat than he normally ate.  Yes, he was used to receiving an infinite amount of packages from his mother containing nothing but sweets, but he didn't fancy them as much anymore.  He hated the fact that his mother treated him like a baby, and that his father treated him like an adult and not his own son.

            "What is a 'Mundane'?  I know mundane means normal, but to use an adjective as a noun like that," Eric paused, "What is he talking about, Hermione?"

            "Our school, Eric, is designed to have people of noble blood there only—like Sirs, Ladies, and etcetera.  Draco comes from a long line of noble blood and is not used to us 'commoners'," Hermione explained, secretly telling some truth in her lie.  "Others are not permitted, even though the number of pure nobles is rapidly declining as there are intermarriages."

            "But you go there too," he reminded realizing what Draco's attitude problem was all about.  Eric suddenly recalled Hermione telling him earlier that her school was also a boarding school out in the middle of nowhere.

            "I am of noble blood by different means than Draco.  My parents are not nobles, but others in their family are.  So I am not directly of noble blood, but one through marriage.  Since I am the only child, I was declared as being the only noble Granger and allowed admittance into the Churchill Academy of London."

            "I wasn't aware that England was still a social based society."

            "We don't openly admit it."  With that, the conversation was over and she was allowed to continue eating her wonderful lunch of finger sandwiches, fresh fruits and vegetables, and water.  Her parents' rules about limited sweets had turned into a slight favor for her as she began to lose her taste for them over the years.  She bit hungrily into her turkey sandwich with lettuce and began thinking about how much she missed the very alien world that was home.  Even though humans and witches were not that much different in appearance, their worlds were completely opposite from each other.  The Muggle world had more opportunities for a higher level of education and self evolution, but the wizarding world had more fascinating jobs and things to learn.  She knew she'd be bored living her life as a Muggle instead of a witch.

            The end of the day came quickly for her and the weekend greeted her with open arms.  She regretted not being at Hogwarts where she could be spending all Saturday at Hogsmeade with Harry and Ron.  Hermione thought about writing them, but then wondered how she would be able to get into touch with them.  She could not owl the letter; that would look strange to Muggles!  As she mulled over the subject while eating, she recalled what Dumbledore had told her about keeping in contact.  She was permitted to use the regular post and then that would be owled to Hogwarts.  A member of the Ministry of Magic would come once a week to the address and pick it up to owl it off to school.  But where did she put that address?

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That is the end of Chapter Two.  Sorry that it had taken me so long to update it, but I had to get ready for college.  I had finally transferred to my four year school!  I will hopefully have Chapter Three up soon, and I guarantee some interesting twists.  Please review!

~ann no aku

   [1]: mailto:ann_no_aku@yahoo.com



	3. I Was Born for Dying

Disposable Heroes

By: ann no aku

**Special Note:**  Thank you to everyone whom had reviewed, I really appreciate it!   Mark (thank you for reading He Hated Her for One Reason.  It is a really good fic that I had written about Snape and his passions, so there are some parts no intended for the younger ones.  I highly recommend it!), Margo, Mike Miira, Kerbi, Bana the Random, Jill, DracoDew17, and even Michi G.!!  I wouldn't stop even if I stopped getting reviews, but your positive reviews do encourage me to write some more.  I am sorry if Draco seems too evil, but there is meaning for it.  You will find out if you continue reading!  Thank you so much you guys!

**General Disclaimer:**  Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.  The quote belongs to Metallica from their song "Disposable Heroes".  The title belongs to Metallica from their _Master of Puppets_ album.

**Summary:**  It is Hermione's seventh year at Hogwarts, and she is not the Head Girl.  As a matter of fact, she is not even at Hogwarts!  Instead, Hermione Granger is spending two months abroad studying Muggles in America with her all time enemy Draco Malfoy.  Why had Draco been chosen to go on this trip and how come his parents don't know about it?

**Rating:**  PG-13

**Author's Notes:**  I tried to portray the characters as well as I can without them appearing OOC.  Any questions, e-mail me at babylonsphoenix@hotmail.com

**Chapter:**  Three

**Chapter Title:**  _I Was Born for Dying_

**Opening quote:**  "Life planned out before my birth, nothing could I say; Had no chance to see myself, molded day by day; Looking back I realize, nothing have I done; Left to die with only friend; Alone I clench my gun"

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            Saturday.  Why must he wake up so early on a weekend?  A sliver of a silver eye peaked beneath his heavy eye lid.  "What do you want?" he demanded, trying to hide from the intensely bright light tightly wrapping itself around his pale body.

            "Don't be so rude," an all too familiar voice ordered him.  "What if I was a member of our host family?"

            He finally pulled back the blankets from his head and stared harshly down at Hermione Granger the girl whom he had loved to hate and tease.  It had turned into a hobby of is mostly due to her sharp tongue and witty quips.  His grey eyes studied her for a moment as he wondered what she was doing in his room.  "What are you doing here?"

            "Mrs. Roberts had asked me to wake you up," she responded tersely.  "She has plans for us this afternoon."

            "Plans?" he echoed, not liking the sound of that word.  "What sort of plans?"  He stayed in the safe shell of his bed and refused to budge until all was explained to him.  Draco had not slept well the night before.  It was the same dream he had been having ever since he had arrived in America.

            "She wants to take us to the mall for shopping, and then out to dinner and a movie."

            "Alright, then."  He waited for he to leave, and when she didn't he just stared at her as though she were an insect.  "Well?"

            "What?"  She met his gaze and glared right back at him.  Her chocolate brown eyes melted into his harsh grey eyes.

            "Aren't you going to leave?" he hissed and tried to ignore her deep eyes burning into his own.

            Hermione suddenly felt silly for being caught off her guard and left his room leaving the door wide open so he could shut it himself.  She entered her own room, plopped down on her bed, and started shifting through her school books.  She found that she rather enjoyed all of her classes, especially chemistry.  She knew that chemistry and potions were almost exactly alike, except Snape did not teach chemistry nor did her chemistry teacher act anything like the greasy haired man.  Instead her teacher was a very nice middle aged woman with a doctorate in chemistry.  So wrapped up in her chemistry book, Hermione did not notice as Eric had knocked on her door repeatedly and finally just stood in her doorway waiting for her to notice his presence.

            "Studying?  It is Saturday!" exclaimed Eric.  He had never met anyone whom enjoyed scrolling through textbooks the way the bushy-haired girl did.  "We're going out later," he reminded and studied the quiet girl.  _She looks so cute while studying, he thought to himself.  He was focused on the random curls in her hair and how the messy look was very attractive._

            "I know," she acknowledged not looking up from the book.  Her face burned as she felt his admiration.

            "Did you write to your friends back home?" he asked in an attempt to strike up a conversation.

            "Of course, I had told them to mail me all the work I am missing while I am here."  Hermione finally looked up at him and closed the textbook.  "Why?"

            "Just, uh, wondering," Eric shifted uncomfortably in the doorway and then finally sat down at the window seat.  "Look, Hermione, I," he paused for he was not quite sure how to address his affections for the young British lady.  Just as he was about to continue, Eric was interrupted by the albino ferret.

            "When are we leaving?" Draco inquired as he entered the well illuminated room interrupting Eric's and Hermione's conversation; his eyes were squinted in a ruthless fashion.  He was fully clothed in a pair of black slacks and a black dress shirt looking as though he were going to a funeral.  His sight immediately flew to Eric, and he was not pleased.  "What are you doing in here?" he spat as though Eric had no right to be talking to Hermione.

            "Draco!" she hissed and shot a sympathetic glance to Eric.

            "It's okay."  Eric got up to go and brushed past Draco in the doorway; he did not see as Draco wiped the part of his sleeve where the Muggle had touched him.

            "So, Granger, when are we leaving?"

            "If you hadn't scared Eric off, he probably would have told you."  She sighed and gave him a stern look, one he didn't like very much.  He hated the way she always looked at him as though she was better than he.  She acted like an authoritative figure, and he found it to be stuck up and very unattractive.

            "What?" he snapped.

            "Why did you do that?" she asked calmly giving him that look that reminded him of his mother when she spoke to the house elves.

            "Listen up, Granger; you are not on this trip to watch over me, got that?  I need no Mudblood to talk down to me the way you do.  Let's make a few things clear.  Over here you have as much power over me as you've always had, understand?  The Dream Team is not here to save you if you screw up."

            "And your bodyguards aren't here to make you look feeble, either," she quipped avoiding the serpents deadly stare.

            "I'd watch my mouth if I were you, Granger."  He hovered over her and had to resist the temptation to do what he had done to her the year before.  Not only had turning the girl's hair into straw and her nose like a rat's gotten a quite a few laughs, it had also made the Slytherin house make last place in the House Cup competition.  Needless to say, he was not popular with his peers or Professor Snape after that.  Tired of waiting for the smart mouthed girl to make some other snide comment, Draco joined the Roberts family downstairs for their Muggle outing.  He knew it'd be almost as bad as Care for Magical Creatures with that big oaf Hagrid.__

            _He must be bored to come in here to bother me,_ she thought, _but that gives him no excuse to act the way that he does._  Hermione dragged her body from her bed and made her way.  Even Draco was downstairs with them, but not without his trench coat.  He wore the blasted thing everyday all day because he could not live without the protection of his robes.  It was like a drug addict suddenly being denied his addiction and all that he would be able to use was a substitute that could barely satisfy his needs.  The mind was satisfied with the comfort of the replacement drug, but the body still could not properly function without the real thing.  It slightly amused her that he could not live without something quite so simple, but then she realized that he had known nothing else.  Draco was an alien to this world and did not understand the inner workings of everything.  He had been standing a little off to the side before Hermione had made her way down the winding stairs and into the foyer, but then Mrs. Roberts had dragged Draco into her arms and lured him outside.  Mrs. Roberts really liked Draco even though he was an obnoxious brat most of the time.

            "Ready, Hermione?" Mr. Roberts asked with a large grin on his face.  He was dressed comfortably in a pair of khakis and a very nice Ralph Lauren Polo shirt.

            "Yes," she answered and followed the family into their black Bentley Arnage Red Label.  The car was the most exquisite thing Hermione had ever seen, and she knew that if Draco's family were Muggles this was the car they'd probably own.  The vehicle was a lot roomier than how it looked on the outside.  Five people could fit comfortably in the luxury automobile and be spoilt with the all leather interior.  "This is a brilliant car you have, Mr. Roberts."

            "Thank you," he acknowledged.  "It is the company car, but I am permitted to use it for recreation.  Besides I thought we'd go out in style tonight."

            "I told my father I wanted one of these and he laughed at me," Eric commented, sitting to the left of Hermione whom was stuck in the middle of the back.  "He says that if I pay for half, he'll buy me a Mercedes."

            "What types of cars do you like, Draco?" Mrs. Roberts inquired, turning around to face the seething boy.

            "Um," he paused pretending to think, "If it is dark, fast, and expensive, it goes on my list."  He smirked at Hermione whom was impressed with his spur-of-the-moment fabrication, though she did know that he'd probably really like those types of cars if he could ever tell the difference between the companies.

            "And you, Hermione?" she continued.

            "Personally, I like the Jaguars," she answered, quickly thinking of a type of car that might interest her one day.

            "Wonderful!"

            The long day out was not as dreadful as Draco had initially thought, but he'd be damned if he showed otherwise  The family had eaten at an upper class restaurant where they were served one portion of the meal at a time.  The food had been most exquisite and to his liking for it had more flavor than the bland British style of cooking he was used to eating.  He had never seen a movie before and found it quite fascinating as he did television.  The Muggles seemed to have created a "false" magic using their technology, though he still preferred to see plays at theatres versus watching flat two dimensional people on a vast screen.  The part he had hated the most was the beginning of it all when they went out to a "mall", whatever the hell that was.  Voldemort only knew!  There were schools of people fishing around shopping and girls giggling, different (annoying) types of music had blared from every store, and there were pinks and purples everywhere.  He had felt nauseous after passing a store called The Limited, Too.  Draco had noticed that girls were gawking at him (mostly were blond) and even some Muggles that looked like wannabe wizards (they had mostly black hair and piercings).  He had found that to his liking and knew that they would want to be his friend, though it would be one sided.  He had no need to befriend any Muggles.

            As soon as the Robertses and the abroad students arrived at the house, the telephone rang.  "Eric, will you get that?" Mr. Roberts asked.

            "Sure, Dad.  Hello?  Oh, yes, Mr. Dumbledore."  Eric covered the speaker on the phone and called Hermione and Draco to him.  "It is your headmaster; he wishes to speak with the both of you."

            Hermione shot Draco a look that clearly said 'What the hell have _you_ done to make Dumbledore ring us up'.  She cautiously took the phone.  "Hello, Mr. Dumbledore.  Fine, everything is going along well.  This family is splendid!" she exclaimed.

            "Good, good," he acknowledged.

            "Is everything all right at school, Sir?"

            "Yes, Ms. Granger, and your friends are doing quite well, too.  Harry is showing Ron how to use the post so they can mail you some appropriate goodies from Hogsmeade.  I just had to call to make sure that you had gotten there safe and everything is well.  You are the _only_ ones in that entire state, Ms. Granger."

            "I understand, Sir," she paused wondering how to put her thoughts into coherent sentences.

            "Is there something you wish to tell me?" he inquired.

            "Yes, Sir, I am worried about catching up."

            "Do not worry, Ms. Granger, you will not have to take the part of the examinations you have missed even if you strongly wish to do so."  His words did not comfort her at all.  "I will speak with Mr. Malfoy now," he announced and the phone was handed him.

            He mimicked Hermione's way of using the "phone".  "Hello?"

            "Good evening, Mr. Malfoy.  How are you enjoying your stay?"  Was it just him or was there a twinge of sarcasm in the old man's voice?

            "Sir," he began and lowered his voice, "I do not understand why I was asked to go on this trip."

            "We do not understand many things in this world, Draco, this is one of them.  I take it that you are behaving as usual?"  In other words, was he not behaving as usual?

            "I'm good," he stiffened and the phone line became silent.

            "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy.  Good night."  There was a click on the other end and Draco set the phone down the way it was before.

            "What was the purpose of that call?  To make sure that _I was behaving?  He doesn't trust me!"_

            "Who would?" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest suddenly feeling cranky of having to deal with him all day.  He had left the kitchen and plopped down on a couch in the den.

            "Is everything okay, dear?" Mrs. Roberts inquired poking her head into the kitchen.

            "Yes," Hermione answered swiftly.  "Headmaster Dumbeldore just wanted to speak to us about our stay here.  You and your family are very hospitable, Mrs. Roberts."

            "Thank you!" she cried as though no one had ever told her before.  "You and Draco have been such a pleasure.  Maybe you can even come and visit over the summer before you start college.  Do you know where you wish to attend?"

            For the first time, Hermione Granger realized that she had no idea where she'd want to go to university given the opportunity.  "I-I don't know," she admitted.  "It really depends on which schools offer my major."

            "And you want to work for the government, correct?  The justice department?"

            "Yes."

            "That's so noble.  What does Draco's father do?  I know that he said he wanted to do what his father does."  She had not seen Draco in the den when she had questioned Hermione.

            "Mr. Malfoy used to work with the governors of the school, but," she paused, not wanting to tell the truth in fear that Draco would be embarrassed.  She did not care about Draco, but she did understand having respect for others even when Draco showed her none.  Besides these people were Muggles and had no idea what his true nature really was like!  "I don't know what he does now; I think it also might be some other government work."

            Draco could not believe his ears!  Why would the stupid mudblood lie about him like that?  It wasn't as though he wanted them to know the truth that his father had lost his job, but it was still curious.  His thoughts flooded back to the dream he had been having lately as he sat quiet on the cushioned couch.

*******************************************************

            "Stop!  No, please."  He tried to escape the shadowed figure, but somehow He always managed to catch him.  "Imperio!" the Shadow had shouted.  "Finite Incantum!" He yelled at the same time, but it was too late.  He could not move!  Instead he just kept falling.  It seemed to last forever until-THUD!  He fell to the bottom of a dark pit.  The ground felt hard and soft at the same time.  He tried to feel around for something to bring him back up, but his body felt weak.  The Imperio curse had left him powerless; the Unforgivable Curse had left him drained.  There was nothing he could do but sleep on the floor and hope that when he'd wake again He would be gone.

******************************************************

            Draco had been silent all morning as he watched Hermione study at the lunch table in the cafeteria.  Her rat like nose was burrowed deeply into her U.S. History book.  "What if we have a quiz today?" she had asked him while studying.  He simply ignored her and gave everyone the look of death that passed him.  His eyes were on the look out for Eric whom had arrived at school early that morning for a jock meeting of some sort.  Whatever it was, he sure as hell did not care about it.  A few of the passer-bys would look at Hermione with lust gleaming in their greedy little eyes, and Draco glared at them as if to say that the sassy little girl belonged to him.  He recalled the conversation he had with her that morning in the bathroom.  She had gotten upset with him for smuggling his enchanted hair gel to America.

            "I won't tell Dumbledore or Mr. Fudge if you let me use it once," she had said.

            "What makes you think that I care?"

            "Because you know that you cannot risk getting into anymore trouble with the Ministry or school."

            "Sounds like you are trying to blackmail me, Mudblood.  I think I am rubbing off on you."  He had known that saying those words would have a strong effect on her, and he had been right.  She had turned a bright red and stormed out of the room like a child being caught with his hand in a chocolate frog jar.

            "Dan!" Hermione called out as one walked past her.  "Do you think you can help me with something?"

            "Uh," he saw the dragon boy's harsh silver eyes as they burned themselves into him, "Maybe another time."  Dan hurried past and didn't bother looking back to his friend.

            "That's odd," she mumbled and continued to immerse her into the words of the textbook.

            "Good morning," Eric greeted quite some time later and pulled Hermione into a quick hug.  "How's everything going?"

            "Great!  I think I finally understand a bit more about the War of 1812."

            "You didn't study that already?" he inquired cocking his head to his left.

            "Well, we did not go into as much detail," she lied avoiding his piercing blue eyes.  She was relieved when the bell rang for class.

            "I'll walk you," he offered.

            'It's alright; Draco and I have the same class first thing."  But her assurance only kept him more obliged to walk her to her class.

            "So, Draco, what are you doing in gym class?" Eric wondered.

            "Tennis," he quickly answered.  "I have never heard of it."

            "Nonsense!" Hermione exclaimed.  "Surely you have, your father owns a country club just outside of London."

            "Really?" Eric asked curious about these two.  Something about them seemed out of place.

            "A lot of famous matches are held there," she continued to lie.  "Draco's father has been known to refer to tennis as another name, and that is probably how Draco got confused."  He sneered at her.  "He calls it the Rich English Man's Sweater Sport, or REMSS for short."

            "You know a lot about his family."

            "His father is a very important nobleman back home."

            "No wonder Draco can be a bit of a spoilt brat at times," Eric laughed and did not notice Draco's angry face.

            "That's right, tennis is my favorite sport," he dryly announced.  "I am quite good at it."

            The three of them reached the door to the classroom and Eric made sure he gave Hermione another hug.  "Have a good day," his cheeks turned a pale pink.  "Bye."

            "Cheers."

            "So what is tennis anyway?" Draco finally demanded sitting down at his desk.

            "It can be a little like Quidditch.  Just pretend that you are hitting some bludgers with the beaters, only you are in a court and have to hit the tennis ball within certain boundaries using a racket.  A racket looks a lot like a snow shoe.  The point of the game is to make sure that your opponent cannot hit the ball back to you so you can gain a point.  If your opponent hits the ball out of bounds, it is your serve, too.  Does that make any sense?"

            "What happens if I hit a Muggle with the tennis ball?"  For the first time all morning he had his evil grin plastered on his face.

            "You cannot do that!"

            He disregarded her cry and just pictured himself hitting Eric with a tennis ball, whatever that was.  His thoughts were a jumble until the end of class.  He was most excited about being able to play tennis.

            "Okay," Coach Marino began looking at the clipboard in front of him, "These are going to be the teams for today."  He called out about twelve pairs of names and the ones that were not playing tennis had to run.  Luckily for Draco he was one of the first and his partner was someone by the name of Mark Dantino.

            Mark was an average looking teenager with wild brown hair.  He picked up a tennis racket and swung it expertly in the air.  "Come on, chap," he mocked Draco, "Let's see how much of your pansy upbringing has paid off."  They made their way to the court and Mark served first.  The ball flew right past his opponent's face and landed behind the white line.  "I thought all you pretty British boys knew how to do this stuff.  Isn't it required where you come from?"

            _Pretty boy?_  The next ball also breezed past him.

            "Aw, can the poor white boy not hit a 'bloody' ball?"  Mark felt particularly energetic that day.  There was nothing the competitive boy loved more than showing stupid people up, and he did not like Draco after all he had heard about him from his good friend Eric Roberts.

            "We'll see about that," Draco sneered and managed to whack the next ball and gain his first point.  The game continued as so with only Draco making the serves and Mark trying desperately to return them.  The class had stopped to watch and even the coach was in shock that this new student could beat his main tennis player.  Draco had worked up quite a sweat and felt good having such a triumph over the hot shot Muggle.  He did not wait for the professor to dismiss him and just walked back to the locker room where he took a quick cold shower and nearly cursed himself for forgetting his trusty hair gel.  _It's because of that stupid Mudblood that I had left my gel in the bathroom._

******************************************************

            "You look almost like a different person with your hair like that," came a voice from behind him.

            "Good afternoon to you, too, Mudblood," he greeted.

            She sat across from him at the picnic table.  Eric, who was not far behind her, did the same and sat beside Hermione.  A few of his friends followed in suit.  She pulled out a box of jelly beans and carefully poked around for a delicious looking one.

            "Are those jelly beans?" Eric wondered.

            "Y-Yes," she stammered.  "Uh, would you like one?"

            Draco watched in delight as Eric just randomly chose a tan jelly bean and popped it in his mouth.   Almost as nearly as he had tasted it did he spit it out   "What the hell was that?  It tasted like . . .liver or something."

            "Oh, um, this is a new type of jelly bean.  A candy company back home had thought it would be interesting if they had made every flavor beans.  Would you like to try a different one?"

            "No," his face was green as he looked at the pink one she was holding.

            "I'll take it, Granger."  Draco ate the candy for he had known that it would be a strawberry, and he was right.  "Strawberry," he announced.

            "See?  Not all are that bad."

            "Hey, there's Mark.  Mark!" Eric called his friend over.  "This is Hermione Granger and her school mate Draco Malfoy."

            Mark's face fell.  "It's the British boy who can't play tennis."

            "If I remember correctly, I had beaten you my first time ever of playing tennis," Draco reminded with a harsh tone.

            Eric went over the conversation in his mind.  Hadn't Draco said earlier that morning that tennis was his favorite sport and that he was really good at the sport?  Who could forget something like that so easily?  The more he thought about it the more he realized just how odd Draco was and Hermione seemed to be the one to remind him of that.  Draco just didn't seem right; there was something about him that screamed more than British.  He couldn't understand it and thought it ridiculous to think of them as aliens even though it made some sense to their eccentricity.  Eric watched as Draco kept rubbing his arm in a circular pattern.

            "Is your arm hurt from tennis?" Mark joked obviously pissed that he had lost.

            Hermione looked at where he was stroking on his fore arm and her chocolate eyes grew wide with fear.  "Are your alright?"

            "Yes," he said without thinking about it and recalled his dream.

            "You had a nightmare last night, Draco, and had fallen out of the bed.  You had kept rubbing your arm and mumbling stuff."  Mark laughed and imagined Draco falling off a top bunk and landing roughly on the hard floor.  It amused him.

            He had fallen to the bottom of a dark pit.  The ground had felt hard and soft at the same time.

            "Draco," Hermione sounded sincere.  He did not want her fucking pity.

            "I am fine," he forced himself to stop thinking about everything and the odd sensation on his arm.  "I must've hit my arm when I fell."

            He had just kept falling.

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            Thank you for reading Chapter Three!  Chapter Four will be posted soon.  I hope that you had enjoyed this chapter and will review.  Thanks!

~ann no aku


	4. A Dream is Just a Dream

Disposable Heroes

By: ann no aku

**Special Note:**  Thank you so much to all of my loyal readers!  Thanks to Danny, Niki, Morigan Riddle, The Totally Sarcastic Sprite, Malfoyz gurl, and all the others whom have been reading this from the beginning!  ann no aku loves to get reviews of love, though flaming is permitted.  Thanks again!

**General Disclaimer:**  Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.  The title belongs to Metallica from their _Master of Puppets_ album.

**Summary:**  It is Hermione's seventh year at Hogwarts, and she is not the Head Girl.  As a matter of fact, she is not even at Hogwarts!  Instead, Hermione Granger is spending two months abroad studying Muggles in America with her all time enemy Draco Malfoy.  Why had Draco been chosen to go on this trip and how come his parents don't know about it?

**Rating:**  PG-13

**Author's Notes:**  I tried to portray the characters as well as I can without them appearing OOC.  Any questions, e-mail me at ann_no_aku@yahoo.com

**Chapter:**  Four

**Chapter Title:**  A Dream is Just a Dream

**Opening quote:**  "I saw my death in a dream.  I was an old man.  How do I know I won't survive this?  Perhaps it will pass, and I will get better.  To dream is prophecy."  "Prophecy is a guess that comes true.  When it doesn't, it's a metaphor.  You could put a gun to your head tomorrow and pull the trigger, and the dream is just a dream and a prophecy is just a metaphor.  And so are you."  JMS

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            "Stop!  No, please."  He tried to escape the shadowed figure, but somehow He always managed to catch him.  "Imperio!" the Shadow had shouted.  "Finite Incantum!" He yelled at the same time, but it was too late.  He could not move!  Instead he just kept falling.  It seemed to last forever until-THUD!  He fell to the bottom of a dark pit.  The ground felt hard and soft at the same time.  He tried to feel around for something to bring him back up, but his body felt weak.  The Imperio curse had left him powerless; the Unforgivable Curse had left him drained.  There was nothing he could do but sleep on the floor and hope that when he'd wake again He would be gone.

            The Shadow was still there beckoning him.  It had followed him down to the abyss.  It hissed words of seduction in his ear and bit his arm.  The Shadow's venom burned him and left an odd shaped scar.  It itched and tingled.  He could not see the mark it had left on his sore appendage.  "What-What are you doing to me?" He demanded of the Shadow.  "Is He here, Shadow?"  Somehow that question had come to mind.  To whom was he referring, anyway, and why was he talking to the Shadow?  _The venom must have some odd effects, he decided._

            "He does not know you are here," the Shadow hissed.  "But he can be if you let him.  Call him to you."

            "How do I do that?"

            "Morsmordre."

            "What is that?" he asked of the Shadow starting to see in the dark now.  It was as though the venom had brought him back to life.  He was reborn and seeing through the eyes of a snake.

            "It is charm that calls upon all whom have been bitten."

            "You bit _me_," he told the Shadow.  He suddenly felt afraid to look at the Shadow.  What would he see with this sudden new sight he had been given?

            "Look at me," the Shadow commanded.  Its words sounded like air leaking from a pipe.  "I know you want to, boy."

            But he didn't.  What would he see?  "I-I can't."

            "I have given you life.  Look at me!" it urged.

            He rolled his head to the other side and met the face of the Shadow.  At first the Shadow looked a lot like-

            "Hermione," he whispered.  "Why is it you?"

            "Draco, what is the matter with you?"  He had said her name almost passionately.  It sounded strange.  His voice was tired.  "Why are you on the floor in the hallway?  I had to use the restroom and nearly tripped over you."

            Hallway?  No.  He was in a pit!  And Hermione was the Shadow.

            "Draco!"

            As if something snapped within him, he shot up and leaned against the wall for support.  Sweat beads trailed down his brow and his hair was a mess atop his head.  "I feel sick."  He ran to the bathroom and collapsed next to the toilet.  He could not control what happened next.  A blaze burned in his stomach and it flew out of his mouth like a dragon spitting fire.  It tasted like acid.

            She had followed him and watched him as he heaved.  It hurt her to see him so pained.  "What happened?"

            "It's this American food, Mudblood.  They use too much fat and oils."

            "You're lying," she whispered surprised that she could muster the confidence to say those words.  His sudden illness had both shocked and upset her.  Draco Malfoy did not get sick so easily, and if he did he would not show it to her!  She was the last person on the Earth he'd want to be weak in front of.

            "What is it to you, you nosey little bitch?" he cursed and started immediately brushing his teeth after he flushed the toilet.  "You're not starting to care, are you?"

            "No!"

            "Good, because it would be insulting to have a girl like you fall in love with me."  He left her alone in the still dark bathroom and crawled back into his bunk bed.  Draco felt so foolish for letting the stupid little Mudblood see him so weak.  He quickly fell back asleep and found it to be most peaceful.

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            "I don't understand it, Lucius.  Usually Draco writes to us as soon as he gets to school," Narcissa said at dinner Monday evening.

            "I would not fret too much.  It is his final year at that wretched school."  He saw her face scrunch up.  "Excellent meal this is.  That new house elf was really quite a deal."

            "Do you think he is alright?  I can always owl Dumbledore," she said returning the conversation back to her son.

            "Oh, Narcissa, the boy is fine!" he exclaimed and slammed his napkin down next to his goblet after wiping his mouth.  White wine sloshed around and nearly escaped the rim of the glass.  "Now, what is for dessert?"

            "Your favorite," she swallowed down some of her own wine, "Pecan Bourbon Crème Brulee."

            "Marvelous."  With a wave of the hand his and her plates were gone and replaced with fancy bowls of their dessert.  "Oh, this is just marvelous.  Don't you think, Narcissa?"

            "Of course," she agreed and took a small spoonful into her mouth.

            "I was thinking, love, what we should do for Christmas.  We have not traveled much lately."

            "You have been busy," she reminded finishing off her third glass of wine.

            "Well that is to be expected with me now working.  It is a very well paying job, is it not?  Otherwise how could we pay for the new house elf and all of our wonderful things?"

            Narcissa did not answer.  Instead she proceeded with her crème brulee.

            "It sure has been quiet with the Ministry of Magic lately.  They are barely even discussed in the papers.  Curious," he became lost in this thoughts.  Lucius did not see as an owl sat waiting at his window in his dining room hoping to be let in from the damp outside.  "Curious, isn't it, Narcissa?"

            "Yes."

            "Will you come to bed early tonight, dear?"

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            "Mrs. Roberts," Hermione came downstairs into the kitchen still in her pajamas the next morning.  It was quite early but she was not surprised to see the woman so busily prepping breakfast.

            "Please, call me Sandy," she smiled and fumbled through a cook book.  "Is there something the matter, dear?"

            "Sort of; I am worried about Draco."

            "Is there something wrong with him?"  Hermione's words had created a fear within her.  "What is it?"

            "He got ill last night.  I do not think he is fit for school today."

            "Is he sick?  Do I need to call a doctor?  Must I inform his school?"  Her normally happy face was stricken with worry and panic.  "Why don't you help me by making him a cup of tea?"

            "Alright."  She padded around the kitchen searching for the mugs and the tea bags when she remembered that he did not like tea.  As a matter of fact, he had almost choked on it the last and first time he had had it.  _No,_ she told herself,_ he is a spoiled little brat who is too used to getting his own way.  Still something bothered him last night.  What was it?_

            "Bring him up some crackers too, please.  I just hope that he will not have to leave early.  Draco is really a good person but with a very empty soul.  Did you ever notice that about him?  No matter what, he is alone even around you."

            "We are not exactly the best of friends," Hermione replied and turned on the kettle.  "He does not like me."

            "So I've heard, but I don't believe it.  I think he chooses not to like you but deep down he has this strong respect for you that even he does not yet realize.  Poor child, he probably does not get much attention at home."

            She had not thought about it that way before!  How could she have been so blind?  _But,_ Hermione reminded herself, _he still hates me and always will.  Nothing can change that._  "His father is very rich and buys him lots of things."

            "My family is rich, Hermione, and we buy nice things, too.  But purchasing one gifts all the time is not love.  Eric has been brought up in a very family oriented person, and I would love to have had more of a family if I could.  Unfortunately I had something wrong with my uterus after Eric was born and was not able to bear another child."

            "How horrible."  She found a bag of crackers and set it on the counter next to the cup and saucer.

            "It was, yes, but I survived it.  You can't go through life hating the bad things that come across your way.  You can only pity them.  You cannot help but to pity all that has this need—this hunger to corrupt others' lives.  Yet in the end, everything is well.  Once you manage to survive that bad part in your life, you are a better person."

            "You are a very positive woman, Mrs. Rob—er, Sandy."

            "You have to be in this world."

            Soon enough the teapot screamed and the hot water was poured into its proper mug.  Steam wafted above it.  Hermione poured in some sugar and creamer then mixed all of the contents together.  She had chosen to make him a chamomile tea to calm his nerves.  "Thank you."

            "For what?"

            "For enlightening me."

            "It is no problem, dear.  I just hope that Draco gets better.  I do not like it when others are hurting."

            Hermione made her way carefully up the stairs and into the bedroom Eric and Draco were sharing.  She knocked once, then twice.  Finally Eric's voice told her to come inside.  She searched for a lamp and found one on the desk.  "Draco had gotten ill last night," she explained.  "So I had made him so tea and crackers."

            "Will he be okay?" Eric mumbled still half asleep, but he did not hear her next answer.  His alarm clock blared through her answer, and he did not bother to repeat it.  He suddenly recalled hearing some strange words last night coming from Draco's bunk.  It had sounded like Latin, and he could have sworn he had seen some strange light.  But then he had had dreams like that a few times already.

            "What do you want?" Draco greeted looking a little paler than usual.  Or was that just because the room was still mostly dark?

            "I have made you some tea and crackers to help your upset stomach."

            "I don't recall asking for you help."

            "That's just it, you never will.  Drink it."  Hermione shoved the warm cup still sitting on the saucer to him.

            "Why do you care if I am ill or not?" he demanded as he delicately sipped the soothing liquid.  It was still very warm, but he did not mind.

            "I don't," she snapped.

            "I'm off to the shower.  You will be ready for school on time, right, Hermione?" Eric asked.

            "Yes."

            "Good.  Sorry you don't feel well, Draco," he exited the room and closed the door behind him.

            "Who said I was sick?" he barked and felt like throwing the mug at Eric just for mocking him.  "You didn't heed my warning, Granger.  You are messing in business in which you have no part."

            "It concerns me, Draco, because-"  Why did it concern her?  She didn't care!

            "I don't want your concern," he said but his gratitude spoke otherwise.  The tea slid down his throat and felt relieving.  He appreciated the warm drink and dry crackers, but he hated the fact that a Mudblood had to be the one to care for him.

            "You don't have it, nor do you have my worry.  I just--this situation is of _a_ concern to me because I am the only other one here."

            "This has nothing to do with whatever you think it does."

            "And what do you think I think it is?" she countered.

            "Obviously something dealing with the wizarding world," he finished his tea and slid off of the top bunk.

            "Where do you think you're going?"

            "School," Draco flatly answered.  "You're not the only one who can go."

            "But you're ill."

            "_Was ill, Granger.  I was ill yesterday.  I had told you what it was."  He sifted through his dresser for some clothes and finally pulled out a pair of black slacks and a black t-shirt that had 'Mudbloods must die' written on the front in a fancy red script then there was a picture of Salazar Slytherin on the back._

            "Nice shirt."

            "Is that Muggle ever going to get out of the shower?" he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.  "Going to be in here while I dress, are you?"

            "I am worried-"  _I__ thought that he was going to take a shower . . ._

            "Why do you think I care that you give a shit about me?"  His tone was darker than usual and his stormy grey eyes were alive with anger.  "You poor little girl, I almost pity you.  You, nothing more than a lowly Mudblood, trying to show concern and worry for someone like me; it amuses me. If I was more in the mood, I'd be disgusted."  He gripped the dresser for support as he stood.  For some odd reason, his body felt extremely sore and weak as though someone had sucked the life right out of him.  "If you will excuse me, Granger, I need to get dressed."  His breath caught in his throat.  "Now!"

            No one could have made a faster dash to the door.  Hermione practically slammed it and ran all the way back to her room.  His tone had caught her off her guard.  Never before had she heard him speak quite so pained and dark.  It frightened her.  She looked over to her dresser where she kept her own wand and decided to bring it to school just in case.  She knew as well (if not better) that underage magic (especially in the Muggle world) was not permitted, but she had a bad feeling about the day.  There was anxiety coursing through her veins as she got dressed and her nerves were tense with arousal.  She grabbed her school bag and decided she'd rather distract herself by helping Mrs. Roberts cook breakfast.

            "I was wondering what had taken you so long," she turned around from the stove with a pan of fresh bacon in her hand.  "Is he going to be okay?"

            "He insists upon going to school today," Hermione took out a platter for the bacon and set the table.

            "At least he has priorities.  He must be a strong kid."

            _He's a coward, Hermione thought._

            "Has he gotten ill before?"

            "I don't know."  She tried to avoid the questioning look Mrs. Roberts was giving her.  "He is odd like that."

            "You British are a little odd," Sandy smiled at her.  "I sure hope that he'll be all right.  If not, I suppose I will have to contact the school or his parents.  I would hate to see him go so soon.  He has only been here for a few days, too."

            "It is rude to talk about people behind their backs," Draco announced as he entered the kitchen looking even more pallid than usual.  It added to his creepiness, as well as his crude t-shirt.

            "Feeling better?"  Mrs. Roberts had already prepared a bowl of fruit and placed it down in front of him after forcing him to sit down at the table.  "I want you to eat all of that now.  Citrus is best for you when you are feeling ill."  She ruffled up his soft hair.

            He kept quiet during breakfast.  He could not get the dream off of his mind; it consumed him the way nighttime consumed the earth.  It was dark and cold, yet eating at him like an acid.  Draco also found that he could barely remove his eyes from his left arm.  There was a tingling sensation on his arm like an itch on the inside.  The fruit felt fresh in his mouth and crisp with citrus juices as he ate his breakfast.

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            "Lucius Malfoy," Dumbledore greeted, "What a nice surprise.  How may I help you?"

            "I am here on behalf of my wife.  She is worried about our son Draco.  He has not written back to any of the messages Narcissa has sent him here."

            "Well I sure hope not," he said peering up at him through his half moon spectacles.  "Draco is not here."

            "What?" he exclaimed.  His grip tightened on the knob of his cane.  "Where is he?"

            "Studying abroad.  An owl was sent to your manor with the information along with his new supplies list.  Someone had signed it and mailed it back.  I have it with me if you'd like to see it."

            "Yes!" Lucius agreed impatiently and waited as the old headmaster shifted through his drawers for the piece of parchment.

            "Ah, here we are."  He pulled out the permission slip and handed it to him.  "I believe that Mrs. Malfoy had been the one to sign it."

            "She knows nothing of this!"

            "That is her signature, is it not?"

            "Yes, but she-" he fumbled.  "I don't think she knew what it was for.  She probably thought it was something for Hogsmeade or someplace similar."

            "It is always important to read documents before signing them, Lucius."

            "I am not the one who signed this!" he slammed the parchment onto the desk.  "Where is he?  I want him back at Hogwarts!"

            "I am afraid that cannot be done anytime soon.  The agreement was that he'd spend two months studying abroad."

            "Studying abroad?  What could he possibly be studying abroad?  And where?!"

            "Muggles, Lucius, in America."

            "Muggles?" he repeated with fury in his voice.  "For what purpose?"

            "It allows my students to appreciate magic more for it is not permitted."

            "Surely he has some protection!'

            "He is allowed his wand and Muggle Studies Year 7 book."

            "I was not aware that he was taking Muggle Studies."

            "He didn't, but it helps him understand them."  There was an uneasy silence between them.

            "I will find him, Albus, and I am going to bring him back here."

            "I don't recommend it.  He is being protected by the Ministry on this one.  No one can touch him."

            "Am I permitted to speak with him?" he gritted his teeth.

            "Of course, Lucius, would you like the address?"

            "Yes," he said much more calmly.

            "Remember this is not to be used for owling messages to him.  You can only send him post the Muggle way by means of sending it to the Ministry where they can forward it to him.  That is, unless," Dumbledore paused.

            "Unless?"

            "Unless you choose to visit him by means of taking an airplane.  In that case you'd have to get your hands on some Muggle currency, both British and American.  But you cannot take him home or back here."

            Mr. Malfoy eyed the headmaster curiously as though he knew Dumbledore had done all of this on purpose.  "I hope that my son is not alone over there."

            "Of course not.  He is staying with a lovely Muggle family and one other Hogwarts student."

            "Who?"

            "Hermione Granger," he smiled.

            "The Muggle born?  Surely that isn't fair to send a pure blood and a Muggle born to study Muggles."

            "She has a strong head on her shoulders, and I'm sure that she'll keep him in line."

            "My son does not need some Muggle born to keep an eye on him!" Lucius exploded with anger flashing in his eyes.

            "Lucius Malfoy, Ms. Granger is the top student at Hogwarts.  The fact that she is Muggle born makes no difference."

            "Of course it doesn't," he lowered his tone and shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the headmaster.  "And when will my son be home?"

            "Two months."

            "Thank you, Albus.  We'll keep in touch."  With that Lucius Malfoy left the office and mulled over the conversation he and the headmaster had just shared.  Did he know?  Is that why Draco was randomly chosen to study Muggles abroad?  Everyone knew how much the Malfoys despised the Muggles even though the Malfoys themselves wouldn't openly admit it so that it could be held against them.  _No, that's ridiculous.  I don't even know that much about it, so how could that damned fool Albus know anything?_  Still it did not make much sense.  Why Draco Malfoy of all the other students?

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            "How well do you think you did on that U.S. History test?" Hermione inquired.

            "What does it matter?  It is not as though it is for a grade."  He picked at his lunch and looked up at her.  His eyes told her that he was in pain, but his expression screamed not to ask.  But she could not help herself.

            "What is wrong, Draco?  Honestly!"  Her sudden exclamation caught the attention of all those at the lunch table.

            "Is the pretty British boy sick?" Mark Dantino joked.  "That's just too bad, you know, because we really did need another tennis player, someone who looks good in a sweater."  Hermione shot him a glare that reminded Mark all too much of a look one of his female friends gave him whenever he said something wrong.

            "Granger, believe me when I say that you and your super friends do not want to get involved.  It is something that even Harry Potter wouldn't be able to avoid nor get him out of."

            "What is it?" she pressed.

            "A dream, Granger, one of those dreams that you know have an air of truth to them."

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I think this is the longest chapter yet!  It is about 3,800 words (not including this author's note).  I hope that you are enjoying Disposable Heroes so far!  Please drop a review, and flames are permitted for I would like to know what I need to correct (besides silly grammatical errors).  Thank you so much for reading my story!  I hope to have the next chapter up soon.

~ann no aku


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